"And you too are fond of art, I suppose?" hazarded the traveller, more
interested in the young lady herself than in this reprobate brother of
hers.

"Yes, I am very fond of it. It is the only thing I really care for. Of
course, I like music to a certain extent; but I love painting with my whole
heart."

"Happy art, to be loved by so fair a votary! And you dabble with brushes
and colours, of course?"

"A little."

"A true young lady's answer. If you were a Raffaelle in glace silk and
crinoline, you would tell me no more than that. I can only hope that some
happy accident will one day give me an opportunity of judging for myself.
And now, I think, you had better put on your hat. Our train will be in
almost immediately."

She obeyed him; and they went out together to the windy platform, where
the train rumbled in presently. They took their places in a carriage, the
gentleman bundling in his rugs and travelling-bags and despatch boxes
with very little ceremony; but this time they were not alone. A plethoric
gentleman, of the commercial persuasion, was sleeping laboriously in one
corner.

The journey to Holborough lasted a little less than an hour. Miss Lovel
and her companion did not talk much during that time. She was tired and
thoughtful, and he respected her silence. As she drew nearer home, the
happiness she had felt in her return seemed to melt away somehow, leaving